Bandstuck
by Rider of the Whales
Summary: Done as a response to a request on the kink meme. Everyone's in a band! Rating may change as chapters add up. Dave/John, Rose/Jade.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This is my first Homestuck fanfic, done as a response to the Homestuck LJ kink meme, with this prompt-

" I want a long fic with a bandstuck AU.  
>The kids all meet up and form a band, since they can all play instruments.<br>After releasing a few demo songs on the internet, they get signed on a record label, and their popularity just kind of... goes liffdoff.  
>They have wild sold out concerts and millions of fanboys and fangirls, but of course, like any other bands, they have haters.<p>

I wanna see detailed character relationship developement.

Bonus if Dave is the drummer, song writer and rapper, John plays the keyboards and sings, Rose plays violin and maybe possibly guitar, and Jade obviously plays bass.  
>The kids finding bandslash fics would also be super duper nice. I mean, which bandom doesn't have bandslash right?<p>

So here you go, lovely anon, if you don't manage to find it on the meme itself~

== Be John Egbert

Your name is John Egbert, and at the moment you are sitting in the room of your best friend, Dave Strider while he mixes some sick beats on his turntables. Or, you would assume they were sick beats- you know next to nothing about music aside from the fact that you enjoy listening to Dave's. The things he does with his music sometimes makes you feel like you could just- up and float away on them, y'know? They're catchy and seem to wriggle under your skin, take over your pulse, make you sway to the rhythm and open your mouth and want to _dance _and _sing_ and-

You clamp your mouth shut before anything other than a gasp escapes you, swallowing dryly and biting the inside of your cheek. Dave doesn't need to be subjected to _that, _you tell yourself firmly.

But it's too late- he lifts his head from the dizzying drowsiness the music creates and gives you a look. Or, well, you think he's looking at you, you can't tell through his shades. " 'Sup, Egderp?" he asks coolly (because everything Dave Strider _does _is cool), and you give a little shrug and an embarrassed noise and some sort of brush-off. It seems to work, although one pale eyebrow peaks above the black lens before he gets back to work.

The music is different now, smoother, steadier, and you recognize one of the mixes Dave has sent you before. He's changed it a little though, and now it coils into the base of your skull and before you can help yourself you're humming under your breath, but it's okay because the music is so loud he can't hear you anyway, and that means you can open your mouth and start whispering the lyrics you'd unconsciously assigned to the beat-

Dave is staring at you now, you're sure of it, but you can't stop singing, the music is just pulling the words out of you and you make an apologetic noise as the music slowly fades to nothing. Your face heats up as he looks at you over the top of his shades, face a mask but red eyes burning into you and he opens his mouth and say-

"Shit, Egderp, where've you been hiding that voice?"

He isn't even sarcastic or anything.

You blush more and let out an embarrassed giggle. "It's nothing, Dave, really-"

"No, dude, don't brush this off." He leans forward over the table, still staring right at you. "Do it again."

You shake your head, steam practically coming out of your ears- you _never_ sing in front of _anyone_- and abscond to the bathroom.

When you come back you're in for a shock- Dave has set up a microphone and keyboard in front of his turntables and motions you towards it. You shake your head but Dave just scoffs. "C'mon, Egderp, get your shit together. 'S not like I'm taking your virginity the night before your wedding or anything."

"Dave-" Your lips are dry, your throat is dry, it's not like you have stage fright but- but- you've never _done _this before and you say as much. It sounds weak the second it comes out of your mouth but you stand by it. Your blond friend just shakes his head. "Get in front of the mic. Pretend I'm not here. Just do the exact same shit you were doing."

You do so, not wanting to disappoint. But you're shaking and Dave sees it and he gives a huff and turns around, turning the lights off. Somehow this helps- it's just you and the smooth plastic keys in front of you and when Dave starts up the beat again you can automatically add in your piano descant.

Then the words come easily. You start softly, still shy, but when Dave starts altering the music in response to your voice you get a little braver, a little bolder, until it's just you and the music and the beat and your voice, and you're singing your heart out as you play with more soul than you even have in your life and _nothing_, you repeat, _nothing _has ever felt so good

and then it's over, and Dave's turning the lights back on and you're actually _trembling _as you sit back onto the bed with a sigh that comes from deep inside of you.

Dave sits beside you, snagging his computer and downloading what you both had just recorded. What comes out of the speakers has you dropping your jaw in shock- Dave was singing along with you, his lower rumble a perfect counterpart for your tenor voice and you just sound so _good _together.

He looks at your huge (and undoubtedly derpish) smile and offers you the slightest upward tilt of his lips in return. "This shit's going straight to Youtube."

Two more songs and ten days later you have five hundred thousand hits, and the numbers are just going up.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **holy crap am I horrible at writing second-person dave or what :/ bluh bluh I'm probably gonna switch between second and third person from now on (did you know that last chapter was my first time writing second person? of course you didn't, but now you know~ 3 anyway, i hate doing pesterlogs for dave cause i cannot write him for shit so there's not gonna be a lot more of that coming around. Also it's kinda half-assed because i wanted to get on with it and second-person really is weird to write. Anyway this is devolving into a long bitch note so just enjoy your silly fanfic and stop reading this terror of an A/N.

2.

== Be Dave Strider

Your name is Dave Strider and for the past thirty seconds you've been staring, _very _uncoolly, at your big brother as he smirks back at you. He's standing in front of the sword-filled, delighting in watching you come to terms with what he'd just told you.

"…. You want to make a legit record and send it off to a company." You're proud of how deadpan your voice is, and Bro gives you the slightest of nods. "We're just two kids with a keyboard and a drumset."

Bro turns, picking up his bottle of Faygo and taking a deep gulp. You wince behind your shades cause that shit's disgusting and you wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole. "You got friends. Get some of them to help." And with that he's gone, flash-stepping off to gog-knows-where.

A record. A legit, no-fuckin'-joke on-the-charts-one-day record. Bro knows that being a musician has been your dream since- well, as long as you've been old enough to reach up and manipulate Bro's turntables yourself. You spend most of your time making and mixing music, and most of the rest of it chatting with Egderp and your other friends.

Speaking of John, he's pestering you right now.

You move over to your laptop and collapse into your saggy-seated leather rolly-chair, 'resigning' yourself to about half an hour or doing nothing but

[ectoBiologist started pestering turntechGodhead at 19:48 hours]

EB: hey

EB: dave

EB: you there?

TG: sup

EB: oh good

EB: um

EB: so

EB: im getting like tons of emails over here

EB: hehehe

EB: i think we're famous

TG: not yet dude

TG: bro just laid the mightiest of missions on our shoulders

TG: im serious dude this shit is intense

EB: what?

EB: what did he want?

TG: the question isn't what bro wants

TG: the question is what we want

TG: to fizzle and die out in a vapid puddle of youtube trolls

TG: or to flip some of the sickest beats ever created

TG: and make our own record

TG: you still there

EB: yeah! Sorry

EB: i just

EB: a record?

EB: like a real live record?

EB: like, we're making a band?

EB: we can't just have a band of you and me!

TG: huh

TG: guess youre right

TG: not even my cool can contain all this derp you spew everywhere

TG: need at least two more people to mop that shit up

TG: it's a full time job

EB: hey!

EB: im going to ignore that

EB: because I just had the best idea

EB: why don't we get rose and jade to play with us?

TG: no way dude

TG: i don't feel like having lalonde psychoanalyze every gogdamned word that comes outta my mouth

TG: and Harley

TG: don't even go there

EB: aw come on!

EB: jade plays a wicked bass! She'd be perfect!

EB: just give them a try

EB: I'll invite them over for tomorrow afternoon

EB: and I have to go eat dinner now, so I'll catch up with you later!

[ectoBiologist ceased pestering turntechGodhead at 21:14 hours]

TG: what the fuck

TG: nobody even listens to me


End file.
